Chapter 2: The Blame Game
That night, everyone was convinced I’d embezzled the class fund and demanded I return the money.
The group chat pinged nonstop. [Jamie, return the money!] [Not cool, dude.] It was like a virtual mob had formed, pitchforks made of angry emojis. My phone was vibrating off the table.
I just laughed and tagged the class president, who had used class funds to give himself a scholarship:
[President, if you return yours, I’ll return mine.]
It felt good to flip the script, if only for a second. I could almost hear the gears grinding in the chat—now everyone had something new to think about.
But the onslaught kept coming. Sarah Mitchell—the class’s most cash-strapped student—started furiously tagging me.
Sarah’s profile pic was always some random TikTok filter, but she was all business tonight. Her messages came rapid-fire, each one an accusation hotter than the last.
[Seriously, Jamie? You couldn’t pay for your own trip?]
[I was wondering why the class fund was so short. Turns out it went into your pocket.]
Sarah had been eyeing that refund like it was rent money. To her, every dollar mattered—and now she thought I’d snatched three days’ worth of meals right out of her pocket.
Even though I was exhausted, I got out of bed and carefully checked the class fund spreadsheet.
My hands were shaking so bad I nearly dropped my phone. My heart was pounding like I’d just sprinted across campus. I anxiously asked my roommate, Nicole Carter:
“Nicole, did your boyfriend mess up the class fund records? I never used class money for travel. Why did the president put that as the first line? Now everyone thinks I stole $75. Please help me explain.”
Nicole yawned lazily. She rolled over, groaning, and pulled her phone under the covers. “Ugh, I have no idea. Ethan’s been running around all day. Can we not do this at 3am? Just text him in the morning.” Her voice was muffled by her pillow, like she was already halfway back to sleep.
She pulled her comforter up and went to sleep.
But I couldn’t sleep at all.